That FourLetter Word
by Postquam est
Summary: There was only one patient who could change her, the nurse who had been through too much pain to care anymore...but all she could think about was "what if?" Based on Cactus and Mirage.
1. Just a Patient

**If you've never heard of Cactus and Mirage, I suggest you go find it on Youtube or wherever you listen to Vocaloid songs. It's a really good song, which is why I have written a story about it. But that's all I have to say for now; I'll be uploading on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Sundays. Only seven chapters, so it won't take long. Enjoy! :)**

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><p>I walked quickly past that room. It was supposed to be a joyful little room, one where the patients could listen to music played by a girl on a keyboard. She had a nice voice, and the patients would close their eyes and listen, despite their illness or condition.<p>

I had heard her songs way too many times. In this part of the hospital, there shouldn't be much happiness at all. The girl on the keyboard pretended she didn't notice, but I know she did. Her audience would disappear and change over the days. There weren't many who came to listen to her longer than a month.

A nurse like me isn't able to let emotions get through. Happiness, sadness, pity: all inexcusable. The patients sometimes amaze me. It's like they don't know they're dying. Some of them smile, completely believing lies by loved ones that they'll live, that they're going to make it.

I've seen too many deaths to care.

Many other patients are a little bit smarter. They're quite aware they're going to die. They have a pained expression and I sometimes catch one crying.

Most of them in this section aren't strong enough to move. They can't sustain their life without help. I'm an experienced nurse, much to the disappointment of others, so I attend to quite a few people. I'm not exactly liked though.

I knocked on the door of my patient to let him know I was coming in. It was a new one, one that had just been moved to this section when his condition became extreme. He couldn't walk; he just lay in bed. I walked in, assuming by the smile on his face that this was one of the ones that had been lied to.

"What if," he greeted me with.

"What if what?" I asked flatly.

He didn't answer, but stretched out his arm to point to the window.

I rolled my eyes. "Do you want me to open the window?"

He nodded. I noticed he looked really young, but then so did I. I went to open the window, and his smile grew wider, if that was possible.

"You have glasses, like me," he said cheerfully.

"Yeah, but not for the same reason," I said, showing no emotion except for a frown.

"How do you know?"

I pushed my glasses further up onto my nose. "I just do, OK? Now get some sleep."

I made sure everything in his room was OK before leaving. I shook my head as I walked out. He was definitely one of the smilers. I leaned against a wall as I thought about my glasses. He really didn't know about his death, did he? He couldn't. It was impossible to be that cheerful.

I went to go check on another patient, but I couldn't get him out of my head. That room he was in just wasn't big enough. I felt like I was way too close to him when I walked in. His happiness just seemed to fill up the whole room, and I couldn't even feel sorry for him.

I pushed my glasses closer to my eyes again. Why did I wear them? I forget. I just need them. I hurried about my business, and was stopped by another nurse.

"You're needed in room 102," she said, and I rolled my eyes. Mr. Smiley again.

I walked briskly to his room, entering with the same frown as before. "What now?" I asked plainly.

"What if," he said again. I looked at the window.

"What if what?" I asked, annoyed that I was being pulled into his game.

He picked up a paper airplane and threw it in my direction. I caught it in the smallest movement possible, and threw it away for him to see. He continued smiling.

"What if what?" I asked again, more annoyed now, and he shrugged.

I sighed angrily and left the room. This guy was not going to be easy. I always hated the ones that thought they would live. Usually it was the previous nurses that made them that way. I sometimes wish that I was a nurse for the ones in less serious conditions. I wouldn't lie to them.

I realized I was still standing at his door. I looked through the little window in the door. He was still sitting there, smiling like an idiot. I left in a hurry, hoping he hadn't seen me. But what did I care, anyway? He wouldn't know me for long.

I found the nurse that had notified me earlier.

"Did the patient in 102 say why he needed me?" I asked, hoping maybe she knew something I didn't.

"I think he said he had a gift for you."

"Oh," I said, and then rolled my eyes. His idea of a gift must've been that paper plane. I still couldn't figure out why he had said 'what if' though. I was tempted to go back to the room and get the peice of paper, but I immediately shook my head to myself.

I found it hard to pull myself towards each room, with patients who were sullen and quiet, or smiling with false hope. The ones that smiled, they didn't know what was going on. They'd ask me questions, and I'd answer them as pessimistically as I possibly could.

That guy, though, the one with glasses, he didn't ask any questions, did he? Was it possible that...he knew? Did he know everything was impossible at that point? How was it that he managed to smile?

I had managed to smile at one point. I faced death with a smile. But it wasn't my death. Did I really know how much it hurt? I pushed my glasses up again subconsciously. I paced back and forth, from room to room, avoiding 102 like the plague.

At the end of the day, I couldn't avoid it any longer, I had to go check on the patient. To my relief he was asleep, looking peaceful and secure. I shook my head in amazement. Why was I thinking so much about him? He was just a patient.


	2. What If

**Just so you know, the perspective alternates in each chapter. The odd chapters are from the nurse's point of view, and the evens are from the patient's.**

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><p>I opened my eyes in the morning, glad I was still alive. The image of that nurse's face was still stuck in my head. I pulled a piece of paper out of the drawer next to me and began to draw.<p>

I drew her as I saw her for the most part: her nurse's cap sitting on top of her short hair, and then her pretty eyes, trying to be covered by her glasses. I smiled to myself and left her eyes as they were.

I finished the drawing and folded it up into a paper airplane. I sat waiting for the nurse to come to my room. She finally opened the door, and I felt myself smiling bigger. She needed to see more smiling.

"What if," I said teasingly, knowing she wouldn't unfold the paper airplane I was sending towards her at the moment. Just as I thought, she caught the plane and dropped it in the trash. She went and checked on things next to me, writing on her clipboard all the while.

I saw her checking my IV bag. I didn't expect her to have a worried expression or anything. She didn't, she just had that same frown that seemed to be permanent. I looked up at her happily, and noticed the glare on her glasses blocked her eyes.

I sort of wished I could see her eyes, because eyes seem to hold the most emotion. The nurse could pretend to be an emotionless rock all day if she wanted to, but I wanted to see her show some sign of happiness.

She saw me staring at her and looked away quickly. "Why are you staring at me?" she asked, though her tone was so flat it sounded more like a statement than a question. I shrugged. I really didn't know. I saw her purse her lips as she looked down at her clip board. I continued smiling; I knew she could do something besides frown all the time.

She left my room with her fast walk, as if she were trying to get away from me. That made me laugh the slightest bit to myself. It wasn't like I was leaving the bed. Bored, I pulled out another piece of paper and drew her again.

I almost felt like a stalker, continuing to draw her, but I didn't have anything better to do. I finished, and studied my work, satisfied. Knowing I wouldn't get a chance to throw it at her as a paper plane, I tucked it into my drawer, separate from the other white sheets.

I shifted my gaze to the window. My smile became smaller, but was still present, as I saw that the curtains were closed. I stared at the white ceiling, and then the white walls, and then the white floor. Nothing was dirty, and everything was white.

I let my smile falter a little bit as I thought about how it would end. I would just be another patient to get rid of, a smudge in the white room. I would just be that one guy that annoyed one of the nurses, and she would be glad I was gone.

I felt a tear start to slip down my cheek. I wiped it away quickly, and pulled out another piece of paper. I tried to smile again, but it almost felt painful. I stopped when I was about to draw the nurse's mouth. "What if," I said to the drawing. I drew the curve for the mouth, and smiled to myself. "What if..."

I heard a knock on the door, and stuffed my drawing in the drawer. The nurse walked in, carrying my food. A smile of relief found its way to my face; I had really begun to miss her presence.

Her back was turned, as she had been about to leave, but stopped to write something down. I reached out with my arm to tap her, to tell her I wanted her to stay, but she looked back at me with her blank yet disapproving eyes.

I stopped in mid-reach. I searched for anything, any sign of emotion, in her eyes. "What if," I said hopefully. She walked coldly out of the room.

I sighed. If anyone could be a happiness-killer, it was her. I pasted my smile back on, knowing that if I just smiled I would eventually feel happiness again. If anyone could stay happy, it was me. I was not going to lose my happiness, and I was going to help her find hers.

I pulled back the sheets on my bed. I didn't want to have to stay on it. I knew my legs were too weak to support me, but I was bored.

I sat up and touched my toes to the floor. I pushed off the bed slowly, and half stood, half sat, for a moment or two. Then I leaned forward so that the bed wasn't supporting me anymore, and felt my legs collapsing under me. A sharp pain shot through my legs, but I sighed and kept on smiling. I reached up into my drawer to get yet another piece of paper and my pencil, and lay on the floor drawing the nurse.

I finished the drawing too soon for my liking, and tucked it up in the drawer. I rested my head on my arms and resigned myself to falling asleep.

I awoke to the sound of a foot tapping near my head. I looked up and saw the nurse. She had that frown again. She pushed her glasses closer to her eyes, and I smiled, feeling like that would explain the situation just fine.

"Are you OK?" she asked in her monotone voice. I nodded.

"I mean, if you were fine with me being on the floor," I said. I didn't have anything against the floor. Well, psychologically speaking.

She sighed and left the room. I almost started wondering if she was going to come back, when I saw two men coming to lift me back onto my bed. It made sense, I decided, that she wouldn't be able to pick me up. She was a rather small person.

The two men left and I saw the nurse standing beside my bed. "I brought your dinner," she said, and left. I watched her leave and smiled to myself. I was going to get her to warm up to me or die trying. I laughed softly as I realized I would probably die trying.


	3. Always Smiling

I arrived at the hospital early in the morning, the first thing on my mind being that patient in 102. I swatted the thought away. Why was he any different than the other patients? I couldn't figure it out.

I walked into the building, hurrying past the music from the keyboard. I found myself thinking about him again. Maybe he kept saying 'what if' because he knew he wasn't going to last. People don't just say 'what if' when they know for sure what they want is going to happen.

The poor guy was on the floor yesterday, and I almost thought he had died for a second. The nerve of some patients is really astounding.

I made my way to room 102, scolding myself as I did so. Why was I going to his room first? It wasn't like I had a reason to see him. He could still be asleep. It was early, after all.

I knocked softly on the door and then opened it. I was greeted with an airplane flying towards me, accompanied by that expected 'what if.' I swatted the plane out of my face. It landed on the floor, and I picked it up and placed it in the trash, which hadn't been taken out yet.

It was my job to take out the trash in my patients' rooms, but I couldn't bring myself to get rid of all those paper airplanes. Not until this guy was gone, at least.

I didn't even bother responding to his 'what if,' because I knew he wouldn't tell me. I didn't know why though, he seemed perfectly excited about whatever he was thinking about. It was like he expected me to understand what he was wishing for. I'm not a mind reader.

He continued to smile at me from behind his glasses as I went around performing checks on everything in the room. He didn't say anything, and I don't know why. He seemed like he would be a talkative type, but I didn't really care. The last thing I needed to do was get to know a patient that was only temporary. That would be like a thirsty person in the desert setting his hopes on a pond that was only a mirage.

Did I compare myself to a thirsty person? Let me just make this clear, I'm not thirsting for anything. I'm completely satisfied being my unenthusiastic self. It's quite necessary, for the job I have to do. I left the room without so much as a goodbye, and closed the door behind me.

I stood right where I was for a moment, closing my eyes. I turned back around and peaked through the door's window, having to stand on my tiptoes because I was on the short side. The patient was still smiling, so obviously he wasn't putting on a show or anything, but he seemed to be drawing.

I watched through the window for a few moments before remembering I had other patients to attend to. I pulled myself away from the door and continued on through my other duties.

I sat down in a chair to take a quick break, and though I hated it, that chair was in the room where the girl played her keyboard to patients and sang. She was currently singing a love song, though I don't know why. This was a hospital, not a romantic restaurant. I guess it helps the other patients remember loved ones, but whatever.

I closed my eyes, but then quickly opened them again. All I could see when my eyes were closed was his smile. His eyes. His paper airplanes, sitting in the trash. I looked, exasperated, at the other patients, trying to distract myself. They were all smiling, but it was a sad sort of smile.

None of them smiled like him.

I was annoyed at myself for thinking so much about a patient. I hadn't thought this much about patients in...months, maybe years. I had lost track of the time I spent here. Time didn't matter in a hospital, for most people in my section of the hospital, it was the end of their time anyway.

I glanced at the doorway, and saw a nurse waving me over. I got up and went to talk to her.

"One of your patients was making a lot of noise, so we sent someone in to check on him, and he said he just needed a pink piece of paper, and specifically requested it from you," she said quietly, to avoid interrupting the music.

I closed my eyes in exasperation. "I'm going to take one guess as to where this patient stays," I said, annoyed. "Room 102."

I saw the nurse nod as I walked off. Where was I going to get a pink piece of paper? It's not like the hospital had them ready and waiting for any patients that asked. I pushed my glasses up and made my way out of the hospital. I was going to have to go buy pink paper.

I couldn't believe I was doing it. Usually patients who asked for this type of thing would get politely declined. But no, I was going to go buy paper. I sighed to myself and glared the entire time I was on my errand.

First of all, I had to go change clothes, so that I wouldn't get my white clothes dirty. Secondly, I was going to have to drive all the way to the store and deal with people. Then, I was going to have to actually face that guy in room 102 with the paper, just to see his annoying little smile.

Having finished the errand in as little time as possible for my own convenience, I reluctantly walked to that patient's room. I knocked, and opened the door to see him beaming, waiting expectantly.

I brought the paper over to his bed, and he reached out for it. "What if," he said happily, and I was beginning to wonder if that was just his catchphrase or something. It could be. I placed the paper in his outstretched hand and turned to leave as quickly as possible.

I couldn't help but glance back at him, and caught him looking at me, almost longingly, but it wasn't like a child looks at candy, it was more like he understood something I didn't and wanted me to understand too.

But I could just be over-analyzing things.


	4. A Hint of a Smile

**Eheh sorry, I got grounded for a week -_- but here's three chapters in a row to make up for it.**

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><p><strong>Patient's POV<strong>

I fell asleep with the piece of pink paper in my hand. I woke up, worried, and saw it was still flat and perfect. I breathed a sigh of relief. I set it in the drawer gently. I smiled, knowing I'd use it. I'd use it at just the right time.

I quickly drew the nurse on a blank white piece of paper and folded it into an airplane. I realized that my drawing was getting even better every time I drew it. The nurse entered, her gaze daring me to throw the plane.

I threw it, and kept a straight face. She raised her eyebrows as she caught the plane, looking at me expectantly. "What if," I said, my smile returning. She rolled her eyes and tossed the plane in the trash. It almost looked like she didn't consider even opening it any more. I wondered if she realized what she was doing if she might consider opening it by now.

She went over to my IV bag to check it, and I found myself gazing up at her eyes again, still trying to see through the glare on her glasses. Her eyes met mine, but I didn't look away, and neither did she, for a moment. I wanted to say something really badly, but didn't. I didn't think she would appreciate it. She finally looked at her clipboard, frowning.

She went around the room, making everything was still clean, and I watched her every move. I didn't have anything else to do, anyway. She seemed to be drawing out her movements, wasting time. I wondered if she meant to.

"Don't you have any other patients to attend to?" I asked curiously, hoping not to sound rude. She looked up at me, startled, then hurried through whatever she had to do left and exited the room without a word.

"I..." I started to say after she left the room. That was stupid of me, if she wasn't here any more, what was the point of saying it? I opened my drawer and looked at the pink paper. Not yet. I can't use it just yet. I grabbed a white piece of paper and went back to drawing. I was still pleased with my progress.

I wondered if I'd get to see outside of this room before I died. It'd be nice to be able to hear the music I heard when I was brought here. I wasn't well enough to go out though. I found myself staring at the picture I drew of the nurse, and hastily put it away. I was starting to really feel like a stalker.

I stared instead at the door, willing it to open. Every time it was opened, it was like all my emotional and physical obstacles went away for a second. I found myself clenching my hands into fists, desperately longing for a companion.

The door finally opened, and relief rushed through me, even though it wasn't the food I was waiting for. I wasn't even hungry, but the nurse didn't know that. I noticed red marks where her glasses sat, under her eyes. I wondered if it was from her pressing them so hard all the time.

The nurse gave me my food, and slowly started to leave. I realized I'd forgotten to throw an airplane, and I quietly took a drawing out of my drawer and quickly folded it. I threw it, and it glided past her shoulder. She reached up to catch it, and then turned around and looked at me. I tried to read her expression. Hope fluttered up in me as I thought I caught a hint of a smile, but she turned back around and threw the plane away as she left.

I sighed, then smiled genuinely. Soon, I'll get her to smile.

I just wonder how much time I have left.

I called out until a nurse came to me. I told her I wanted an envelope. She left the room, and an hour or so later my nurse came back, looking annoyed, and handed me an envelope. I tried to convey I was grateful.

"What if," I said quietly as she left, and reached over to the drawer. I had my hand on the knob, and looked down at the envelope. I couldn't bring myself to put it away. Putting it away would be saying I was ready, and I wasn't. I wasn't ready to carry out my final 'what if,' but I know time isn't on my side.

I opened the drawer and set the envelope down, gently, next to the pink piece of paper.


	5. Death Waits for No One

**Nurse's POV**

I went mechanically through my day, until I had to go to _his_ room again. Yesterday he had stared at me, and I accidentally made eye contact. I couldn't look away. Something in his gaze just made me almost feel sorry.

Was that what I was dreading? Was this even dread? It felt familiar, but it wasn't as harsh a feeling as dread. I couldn't remember the feeling, but I couldn't avoid it as I opened his door.

He greeted me with and airplane and a 'what if.' I pushed my glasses further up on my nose before catching the plane and throwing it away. I walked over to his bed to check on things, and he caught me in his gaze again.

"You're bleeding," he said, looking concerned. I reached up to the warm liquid trickling down my cheek instinctively and looked at it. "Did your glasses cut you? Why do you wear them?" he asked, and I turned around for a moment.

"It doesn't matter," I said, still turned the other way.

"The blood might drip down and stain your clothes," he continued to carry on.

"Too late," I said without explanation. I looked up at the door across the room.

All those patients...they had been lied to. _I_ lied to them. I lied to them over, and over, and over. The past was stained red, and it had faded, but not enough. I thought about all of the times I cried, how many times I had to dry my cheeks before I ran out of tears.

Why did I wear the glasses? It was my promise, never to cry again, never to become attached to a patient, never to let them see any emotion. I remember that now. I stared, dazed, at the memories forming themselves in front of me. Time slowed down.

I was brought back to reality by the touch of a hand. I turned around, and _he_ smiled up at me. He brought his hand up to my cheek and wiped off the blood that had continued to drip down my face. I pushed his hand away.

"Don't touch me," I said. There was that dread-like feeling again. "Where are you even going to wipe off your fingers now? Everything in here is white."

"Don't worry," he said, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. He licked the blood off his fingers quickly. "Better?"

I rolled my eyes and left. After I was out of his line of sight, I reached up to the cut and felt it. The blood had stopped trickling, but I could still feel the tender line where the skin was broken. I almost wanted to rip the glasses off then and there, but I couldn't.

As much as I wanted to sit down and ponder my choices, I had duties as a nurse. I pushed my troubles aside, that pile of regrets threatening to overtake me. I closed my eyes. Emotional stress wouldn't kill me, would it? Or was I like a patient being lied to, about my feelings, about what would happen. Was I lying to myself?

I tried to set my priorities straight. I tried to tell myself I was doing this job, coming to this place, every day, so that I could earn enough money to support myself. But why? Why this? Why did I stay here for so long, even after so much pain?

I couldn't remember.

I walked past a window, and saw some workers carrying a coffin. I froze in my spot. I usually dismissed them without a second thought, but now it was different. That was somebody's coffin. That somebody had dreams, hopes, and friends. Or did they? By the time they got here, did they care about anything any more?

I rushed back to room 102. Looking through the window, I saw the patient was drawing again. What did he keep drawing?

But it doesn't matter, it's not my business to care, is it?

The day continued to go on for me, just like every day did. I had no fear of the end, I was in perfectly good health. But what happens to the patients, after the sun goes down? Will they still be there in the morning?

I shook my thoughts off, scolding myself for thinking too much. Most of the time, I thought as little as possible. I focused myself on the things I had to do for the patients, to keep them as comfortable as possible physically, yet I didn't help at all emotionally.

I had done that too many times now, and the routine became automatic, leaving way too much time for thinking.

But my routine has been automatic for quite some time now, so why is it that I've been thinking so much in just the past few days?

I guess this job gets boring because I'm so unfeeling and unsympathetic, but that's much better than feeling the world come crashing down around you every time a patient reaches the end of their time.

The sun hid itself underneath the earth, and still I work on. For my patients, time of day is nonexistent. Death waits for no one, after all.

Not even me.

It's not like my patients are going to wait to die until I can be right by their side, doing everything I can. I have to try my best to be there, as is required of this job, but I'd rather not be there. It's terrible of a nurse to say that, but I do have a promise to keep.

It's better to see the aftermath, rather than standing there, watching them suffer through their final breaths. Some of them are afraid, and others die with a silly smile on their face. It seems rather stupid to me, smiling while dying. Smiling doesn't make the pain go away.


	6. Until the Very End

**Patient's POV**

I shook the doubt from my thoughts and started to draw. My grasp on the pencil started causing me pain, and I couldn't keep from shaking. My energy felt like it was drained. I looked up at the ceiling, wishing I could see the sky, because I knew it was time.

I looked at the drawing I had started, and it was good enough. I reached for the pink paper, my breathing becoming rushed in scared anticipation.

I folded each line carefully, thinking about all the things I knew how to fold. This would be perfect, though. "I..." I tried to say, but my voice wasn't audible. I forced a smile, and in a few seconds it became genuine. Smiles were magic like that.

I put the drawing and the folded pink paper into the envelope, and held it, waiting for my nurse to enter.

She came in, her bored and pessimistic expression still present, and I wished I could change that. She waited at the doorway, looking at me. When I didn't throw an airplane, or say 'what if,' she walked over with an annoyed expression.

I reached out, but drew my arm back to my side when she looked at me warningly. I continued to smile though, and she narrowed her eyes.

Using the last of my energy, I swung my legs to the side of the bed so that I could sit up. Pain coursing through my body, I reached shakily into the drawer. As I pulled out my envelope, I thought about how I hadn't even been here a week.

I hadn't even been here a week, but it was already ending. I wanted the nurse to smile, I wanted her to know what I felt. I wished so desperately that it was all just an act, that she was really trying to hide her emotions. I couldn't bring myself to believe that though, I had seemed to realize that she really wouldn't change.

What had happened during the week replayed in my head, and it felt like forever, even though it was only a matter of seconds. There were so many times I could have told her, so many times I could have asked her, and so many times I could have changed it. I didn't want to, though. She didn't need to change, but I couldn't help but hope she would.

I realized I was still smiling, and I was glad. I didn't to falter now, when I was so close. She had to realize. She had to know what it was like. I looked at the envelope that was in my hands, and closed my eyes. Bringing it up to my face, I kissed it gently, and held it out to the nurse.

Her eyes weren't narrowed any more, and I thought she might actually look...surprised. She stared at it, looking like she was in a trance, and I felt my heart pound faster.

Death. I ignored it. I had to hold on, until she realized. I didn't want to leave yet. I smiled, waiting. She still had the envelope, and I felt my grasp on life loosening.

My life definitely didn't flash before my eyes. However, time did slow down. It was as if all my memories were on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn't remember anything, and all I could do was stare at the space in front of me.

I didn't even know if I was still alive, if maybe after I died I'd just stay frozen in my final memory, but I could feel myself smiling. I saw the nurse's gaze shift from the envelope to me, and her eyes widened. I wondered if she was watching me die.

I felt myself start to fall, my muscles finally giving up, and I closed my eyes. It was like slow motion, and pain started to disappear. I felt myself pulling the IV bag over, and I made sure to smile until the very end.


	7. Four Letters

**Well, last chapter, hope you enjoy. I mean, as much as you can enjoy a sad story.**

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><p>Yesterday, I had watched as he was falling, and that feeling of dread felt like it was about to tear me apart. I had left the room in a daze, having to tell someone a patient had...<p>

I didn't want to admit that to myself.

I stood in his room, the one that was pure white like all the others. There was no reason to like it any more than any other one, but...I did. I couldn't even hide that from myself.

I looked around, then opened the window. I saw some men carrying a coffin, and a terrible feeling rushed through me. I closed my eyes, and turned away from the window. There was no reason to think any differently about that coffin than any others.

I remembered that past week so clearly, but only bits of it. I remembered the times with him. I won't even think about him with disgust any more. There was no reason to dislike him any more than any others.

I walked briskly to the door, hoping to exit and forget all about this week. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

I accidentally hit the trash can on my way out, the one with paper airplanes in it that I never bothered to get rid of, and I looked down at them as they tumbled onto the ground. I squinted as one slightly unfolded and picked it up. Flattening it out to its original form, my eyes widened.

The picture was of me.

I noticed two things as I ran over to the drawer where he had reached to get his envelope. First, I was smiling in the picture, which I hadn't done since...a long time...and even then, it was a fake smile. Second, I wasn't wearing my glasses. How did he know...about the promise...?

I flung open the drawer, the force sending a dozen sheets of paper into the air. They were all the same. Some were rough, some were perfect, some were shaky. I looked down at the envelope in my hand and felt my heart sink.

I opened it slowly, feeling my breath begin to shake. Inside, there was a paper flower. A _pink_ paper flower. Behind it was a drawing. It was a drawing of me, unfinished and shaky.

I realized I was breathing quickly, and that feeling like dread came over me...but it couldn't be dread, because I felt two feelings. One was dread, for sure, but one was nicer.

I looked out the window, but of course the people carrying the coffin were gone. I ran through the hospital, driven by the feelings welling up inside of me. I ran out of his room, through hallways, past the room with music, out the door, and to where the hospital held funerals.

Then I saw him. His unmoving form, sitting in a coffin of fake flowers. I gasped, even though I already knew he was gone. I went up to the edge of his coffin.

"You let me forget it...until now..." I started quietly. "You always knew...your fate...didn't you? Yet you kept smiling. Why?" I could feel my voice starting to quiver.

"I remember the word. The word that I've kept hidden away for so long, the one I didn't tell you..." I paused, "The one I couldn't tell you."

I held back the urge to stop. "It's all your fault," I said, my voice cracking. "Now I've remembered it, and I'll tell you, even though it's still a blurry memory."

"The name of that word...just a four letter word...you already know it, don't you?" I drew in a quick breath. "Love."

I closed my eyes and took off my glasses, one tear squeezing out to sit next to the corner of my eye. I folded the glasses and placed them gently next to him, the patient that had gotten me to...

Smile.

I smiled; it was a small smile, representing gratitude, peace, happiness, relief, and anything a smile should represent. I closed my eyes again and pressed the pink paper to my lips. The mirage that had disappeared at the end of the day, did it really mean anything?

I didn't know, but I knew I could no longer be surrounded by the thorns I once accepted. I wanted to see the same happiness that patient saw, the one that kept him smiling, even when the end was near.

Love.


End file.
